NORTH FOURTH AVENUE has long been Tucson's experimental
ballroom, a place where social permissiveness and civic decorum
practice an ongoing, awkward minuet. The police have always lingered
on the fringes of this mix like stiff chaperones, sometimes reacting
to a tight clutch, at other times just letting the eccentric dance
glide along.
The invasion of street kids is a perfect example. Many avenue
merchants argue a hard line against the young begging bands. Others
urge gentle tolerance. It's a very tricky choreography, with cops
ultimately calling the moves. And one momentary misstep can crumble
the whole fragile construct, revealing a sordid mess of hidden
agendas and outright lies.
Just such a moment occurred at about 7:30 p.m. on Tuesday, September
1.
At night the windswept corner of Fourth Avenue and Sixth Street
is a barren cacophony of traffic and deep shadows. Across the
intersection, Dairy Queen does a thriving business, and behind
it stretches an enormous, glowing yellow billboard for U S West.
"Here to Give You A Hand" reads the towering black letters,
an odd little DEX man silhouetted beneath.
Looking north, you can see the cheerful shops and languid strollers.
But from this corner, that warm ambiance provides just the illusion
of safety. Step a few feet to the right, around the flanks of
the northernmost shop and its windows of flowing cotton dresses,
and you're suddenly in an urban wasteland, swathed by the harsh
glare of headlights. There the world's uglier fallout leaps up
to greet you, the crumpled paper cups and bent cans lining the
sidewalk, the dirty concrete bus-stop bench leaning at a dejected
angle.
It was there, early on the evening of September 1, that my girlfriend,
Mary Rogers, and I first crossed paths with a 56-year-old man
we'll call Vince.
We caught a horrifying glimpse as a gang of toughs, apparently
hungry for his box of leftovers, beat the crap out of him. The
food came from Caruso's, a popular Italian eatery on the avenue
where Vince, a regular, had just finished dining with his young
daughter.
We saw the gruesome spectacle through a restaurant window while
eating dinner ourselves. Vince had been pushed to the corner's
uncivilized side, where racing car headlights accented the grisly
encounter. Pressed up against the dress shop wall, he was being
punched and kicked by a band of creeps. As he began crumpling
to the pavement, his daughter was safely inside Caruso's, where
the owner was dialing in 911.
Mary was on the scene within seconds--"a knee-jerk reaction,"
she called it--and I followed. The cops had also been alerted
from our restaurant phone, and were immediately on the scene as
the youths abandoned their now-bloody quarry and sauntered south
along the sidewalk.
"There they go!" Mary screamed to Officer Rick Wright,
who at first seemed perplexed, then hollered for her to jump into
his car to pursue the suspects. Just as suddenly, Wright announced
he had another call. The youths, bedraggled and defiant, continued
leisurely down the street.
Vince had stumbled from the corner when paramedics arrived. His
thick eye-glasses had fallen to the pavement, and he staggered
along the sidewalk like a wounded bull, unable to see, his nose
a bashed-up mess.
A kid stood beside me on the curb. His brown hair reached his
ass, and he clutched a bongo drum. "Violence is never a good
thing," he said quietly, before walking away.
We retreated to the restaurant, and somberly tried to finish
our meals. Some 20 minutes later Officer Wright returned, and
came to our table. After a short discussion, we jumped in his
car for a cruise down the street to identify the perpetrators.
During the ride, Wright commented that the punks were "fearless."
With good reason, we later discovered.
One of them wore dreadlocks. He was already in cuffs, and turned
to sullenly face a spotlight's glare. We identified him from the
cop car, and another man who was paraded out from the sidewalk
where he'd been crouching with a girl.
Then we were driven back to the restaurant. We figured the bad
boys were going to jail.
Chad Alan Colbert and Adam G. Jarrett, ages 24 and 25 respectively,
were cited for misdemeanor assault and released. Both had general
delivery addresses.
Their crime was later upgraded to felony assault. They're obviously
vicious, but hardly stupid; they've since reportedly been seen
in Phoenix and as far away as Colorado.
In the press, the Tucson Police Department has claimed that Mary
and I were reluctant to help. In their report, the officers said
Mary "refused to be a witness because she feared retaliation.
She works on Fourth Avenue and sees the street kids all the time.
She's afraid they will attack her and her business if she agrees
to be a witness."
Mary does work on Fourth Avenue. At least that much is true.
Officer Wright never offered his name. He didn't request our
names. Nor did he ever ask if we'd be willing to testify.
We would have.
Meanwhile, TPD's official lies have traveled up the command chain
to the lips of Tucson's new police chief, Richard Miranda, who
repeated them to the City Council during a September 14 study
session.
That's how the cops' latest Fourth Avenue dance has played itself
out, as they scramble to explain why two thugs who beat a man
on a public street are now apparently somewhere in the Rockies.
Mary and I smell a big skunk. It's dressed in blue and carries
a badge.
SEVERAL DAYS later Vince sits at a low table in the bar
at Café Sweetwater on Fourth Avenue. He's a short, tight,
stocky Italian with a ruddy complexion, a carpenter whose thick
arms are crossed closely against his chest.
His face is still puffy and bruised, and his eyes are swollen
like a bad hangover behind thick glasses. A fresh, pinkish scar
meanders above his left eye. He seems robbed of something deep
and crucial. An accent from a New Jersey childhood is faint but
noticeable as we talk, and from this spot we can see the corner
of Sixth and Fourth.
Vince is also nursing a broken rib. He leans forward slowly,
carefully, and prods a small slip of paper towards me.
It's from his daughter.
"Hi Dad," the note says. "I hope you get better
soon. I know you will. P.S.--I don't think we'll go there anymore.
Love you. Lisa."
Vince takes the letter back, and tucks it into a leather folder
dotted with well-worn pictures of his little girl.
The police suggest that Vince provoked his attackers. They question
why he sent his daughter inside Caruso's to call 911, and then
returned to face his tormentors. They say he refused immediate
medical treatment, making it difficult to assess his injuries
and resulting in the initial misdemeanor assault charge.
Until recently, Vince thought the cops were on his side.
"We walked out of the restaurant, and the kids asked if
they could have my food," he says to me. "I told them
'no.' Did I have any spare money? I said 'no.' Then they hit at
my right hand."
At that point, he says he took his daughter back into the restaurant
to call 911. Then he returned outside--to retrieve his fallen
glasses.
"I picked them up. I remember getting them in my hands.
They were on the steps. I wasn't on the ground. I was on my feet,
surrounded by quite a few people. I tried to avoid that situation.
I remember thinking I had to get out of there.
"I go to Caruso's, I'd say at least once a month,"
he continues. "And I'm a gentleman, and the waitress that
night remarked how much she thought of my daughter and myself
because we're so close."
He says he'd never raise hell with Lisa nearby. "I'm very
protective of my daughter. I don't let anyone cuss in front of
her. I don't expose her to those situations. You know, we were
walking down the stairs and it all started right there. They instigated
it more and more until I finally got smacked."
Officers also said they doubted Vince's ability to positively
identify his attackers, since his glasses had been broken in the
final assault. He shakes his head in disbelief.
At first, he says the cop wouldn't let him out of the police
car. "I said, 'I can't identify them from here.' He let me
out of the car. I put my glasses on--I popped both lenses back
in--I walked up to them, and I said 'Those are the two who did
it.' "
He wants to know who claims he provoked his attackers. I tell
him it's the police.
"But I wouldn't do that in front of my daughter," he
says.
As for the claim that he refused medical help, he says first
he waited for Lisa's mom to come pick her up. "I refused
to be driven in an ambulance because I didn't want it to be any
more traumatic to my daughter," he says. "I asked them,
'Do you really think I need to go?' and they said, 'Yes. We think
you really need stitches.' I said, 'Okay.' And I drove myself.
"I think it's pretty crummy of the Tucson Police Department
to accuse me of something like that when I definitely identified
(the youths). I had no doubt in my mind. And to say that I provoked
it. Well, if I had called (the youths) some bad names, maybe they
would have done that, so that could have justified it maybe in
somebody's eyes. But I never, never provoked anything. I was in
a restaurant having a good time with my daughter, and was going
home.
"My getting walloped like I was," he says, "I
don't think I had any judgment in time. To me, it was an eternity.
So I couldn't question (TPD's) response time. I definitely, definitely
question why they didn't put (the youths) in jail after the damage
that was done to me. I think if they were in jail and they were
responsible people, they'd have to account for what they did.
And at this time right now, there's no one to account for what
happened to me. No one."
"I was not punched in the nose one time," he says.
"I was really viciously attacked by a few people."
At that point he gets tears, and they seem every bit as authentic
as the swollen eyes, and the raw scar on his face.
"We have done a subsequent review of this situation, and
because of that we have gone to the County Attorney's Office,
and...charges that were subsequently issued have been dropped,
and have been reissued to felony charges for aggravated assault
in the situation.
"However, I have to say that this incident had some contributing
factors that caused the officers at the scene that night to make
the decisions that they did. To include, there were some problems
with the identification of the suspects by the victim. There was
some reluctance on the witnesses' part to come forward
and give us information respective to the suspects. There was
also some difficulty in determining the extent of injuries that
the victim incurred that night, because of some reluctance on
his part to seek medical attention. Therefore, there were some
contributing factors that the officers had to take into account
when they issued the misdemeanor charges.
"One issue we have taken into account, and we are reviewing,
is our policy on the field release of suspects who have general
delivery addresses. On one hand, if we do take people who have
general delivery addresses to jail on every situation, our jails
would be significantly impacted, and we would have tremendous
problems. But on the other hand, we have to take into account
when we have situations where we have people who are problems
to society and could cause us some further problems, when we should
take them to jail."
--Tucson Police Chief Richard Miranda, speaking before
the City Council study session, September 14.
"When somebody's yelling at you in your face, that could
be a misdemeanor assault. But when somebody's laying into you,
physically laying into you, that's a felony. Plain and simple.
Those cops probably just didn't want to hassle with taking those
guys in."
--A retired TPD officer, speaking on the condition of
anonymity.
TWO WEEKS after Vince's beating, TPD Detective Alison Scott
paid Mary a visit at work.
"She said, 'Are you willing to talk to me?' " Mary
recalls. "I didn't know what she wanted at first, and I was
really angry when I read in the newspaper that the police had
let these kids go."
After Mary explained what she had seen, she says Scott "was
shaking her head, and making remarks like these officers messed
up. I told her about how vicious the incident was, and how I ran
out there and told the officer when he drove up, 'There they go,
there they go!' They were only a few feet away. They weren't even
hiding or running. And the officer was saying 'What? What?' Then
he said, 'Oh, can't go. Got another call.' "
Scott told Mary how the officers claimed she wouldn't help them.
"She said, 'Just so you know, they're saying you were an
uncooperative witness.' My mouth dropped. I was really surprised,
and I was a little hurt too. I told her, 'That's a lie. Just so
you know, that makes me really angry because I ran out there that
night to help.' I told her about the officer not seeming to want
to catch the perpetrators, when they were walking casually right
by his damn police car.
"The only time I expressed any reluctance was when the officer
wasn't clear to me about getting into a police car (to go down
and identify the suspects). I thought he wanted me to walk down
and go face-to-face with them.
"Actually this officer, in my opinion, he was very friendly,
but he was overly casual about the whole thing. He acted like,
'Hey, no big deal.' "
Scott also told Mary that Officer Wright said Mary wouldn't give
her name. "That made me really angry. He never asked me my
name. Or my boyfriend's name. Never once, not when I was on the
street at the beginning of the incident. He didn't ask me in the
restaurant when he came to get me. He didn't ask me when I was
in the police car. And he didn't ask me when we stood outside
chatting on Fourth Avenue.
"As a matter-of-fact, when we went back in, I said, 'Well,
I guess they're not going to need me, because they never asked
my name.' "
Mary says her faith in the police department has been shaken.
"Ultimately, I guess I'm confused and disappointed with this
outcome. I always thought the police were the ones you turn to.
I know cops have a difficult job, and they have to make tough
decisions. I support them in that. But to me, it looks like they
made a mistake in this situation, and then tried to cover it up."
A few days later I spoke to Detective Scott myself. I reiterated
that I'd also be willing to testify. Then I asked for comment
on her remarks to Mary about the mistakes made.
"From what I was hearing (from Mary), I was getting more
and more annoyed," Scott said. Then she referred me to her
boss, Capt. Kathy Robinson.
The captain said it was judgment call based on sketchy information
from the victim. "The description (Officer Wright) received
was very vague. This gentleman's glasses were broken. They had
to physically bring him within five feet of these subjects, and
he's squinting. I mean, it wasn't a solid ID.
"The officer didn't mess up," Robinson said. "When
paramedics treated this gentleman, he was pretty bloody. He had
a bad cut above his eye. The paramedics told him, 'You know, your
nose is probably broken.' They said 'You're going to need a couple
of stitches over your eye.'
"He refused treatment then, other than getting cleaned up
for his daughter, because he didn't want his daughter to see him.
He refused medical treatment, he refused to be transported anywhere.
And he told them, 'I'll follow up with my own doctor.' "
She said the officers saw him get in and out of his vehicle.
He wasn't bent over in pain. "They had no indication at all
that there was a cracked rib. There was some indication that his
nose might be broken. But that's a misdemeanor. Unless there's
some substantial injury--at the time the officer didn't know there
were broken bones--it would have gone misdemeanor. I don't fault
the officer for going misdemeanor. I probably would have gone
misdemeanor."
Later, when Vince's injuries were reevaluated, the charge was
upped to a felony. "Broken bones. That constitutes aggravated
assault," Robinson said.
Still, she called it a weak felony at best.
The Fourth Avenue assault wasn't a big deal, she said. "These
things happen every single day. This isn't a serious incident.
Yes, it's serious to this gentlemen. But he made some decisions.
He made some choices. He brought his little girl back in to call
911. There was no reason for him to go back out and confront these
individuals. And that's something we need to look at when we're
going felony. Was he the aggressor on the second incident? Could
he have avoided all of this by staying inside?"
A pause.
"Well, you know what he said to those kids when he approached
them the second time," she added cryptically.
I said no, I didn't.
"I can't discuss it," she replied. But, "that's
one of the things the officers weren't real comfortable with.
They wanted to find someone who overheard that conversation."
Okay. Sure.
My opinion? I think the police are groping for a way to cover
their butts, and hang Vince the carpenter out to dry.
SO WHAT are the larger ramifications of the Fourth Avenue
beating, and how it was handled? Some suggest that this and other
incidents on the avenue are aimed at forcing the merchant's association
to hire more off-duty TPD cops. The association already bankrolls
two officers, at an annual price tag of about $30,000.
Others suggest the police are deliberately highlighting their
department's manpower shortage, or that they're not being paid
enough. Then there are those who say the incident just exemplifies
the lower caliber of cops now common in Tucson.
Whatever the reason, the assault on Vince isn't the sole clue
that there's a problem. In late August, for example, a disturbed
man carrying a big rock chased a girl selling flowers just outside
Café Sweetwater. But when bartender Susie Cullen called
911, she was told the cops didn't have time to respond.
"They said they were too busy," Cullen told me. "But
the flower girl was hysterical, and this guy was dangerous, and
still out on the street. Now I wonder, what does it take, if there's
a bad situation, to actually get the police to come?"
For a time, merchants were told to page their off-duty cops when
an emergency arose, instead of calling 911. But that became sticky
since the calls weren't routed through official TPD channels.
That meant the department had no record of those situations unless
there was an arrest. Theoretically, the number of reported incidents
directly correlates to the number of cops assigned to Fourth Avenue.
Recently the association sent its members back to using 911.
The flip-flop has sown confusion, however, with some business
owners not knowing who to call at all.
Politically, the City Council has taken a tepid peek at the matter,
but no action. The biggest stab at some solution came from Councilman
Steve Leal, who suggested the city lease Fourth Avenue's sidewalks
to the merchants. By making the walkways private property, Leal
argued, both merchants and cops would find it easier to dispense
with troublemakers. But that suggestion has raised a firestorm
of criticism, along with several ethical and constitutional questions.
All of which puts Fourth Avenue right back where it started years
ago, straddling the line between liberal non-conformity and the
larger world's chaotic realities. The September incident has only
made that balancing act more critical.
Some fear an over-reaction. "People need to take a deep
breath about all this stuff," says Paul Gattone, head of
the Southern Arizona People's Law Center, located on the avenue's
northern reaches. "Merchants seem to be in a state of mass
hysteria."
Indeed, Daniel Matlick, president of the merchant's association,
says some business people want to take a very hard line on panhandlers
and other ne'er-do-wells.
"Most merchants have the same concern," he says. "It's
this aggressiveness they see with the kids. Some of them want
to pay for more security. But it cost us $30,000 last year for
the off-duty officers. As for police protection in general, while
I'm mindful of the department's limited resources, I can't say
it's adequate."
He admits that achieving security while retaining the avenue's
funky flavor is a cultural crapshoot. "If there's a problem,
we want to do something about it," he says. "But we're
not like a mall, where you can pick and choose who you let in
because it's all private property. That's fine--we have enough
big malls already. Fourth Avenue is a public area, and we're trying
to maintain those things that make it unique. And it's not easy."
I'm sure Vince would agree.
|